The Rocker Who Loves Me (The Rocker 4)

I broke off when I found a girl that looked no more than sixteen or seventeen standing on my door step. With her dark brown hair with golden highlights falling halfway down her back, she looked even younger than I suspected her to be. Eyes that were so familiar I had to blink a few times before I could focus on any other facial feature.

“Do you always greet people like that?” Came the smart ass reply that she’d inherited from her mother.

“Only the ones that annoy the hell out of me,” I assured her, leaning against the doorframe. “What do you want, Nat?”

“I need your help…” 

Chapter 21

Harper

I frowned down at my phone.

Shane wasn’t answering. I had been calling for two days now, and he hadn’t picked up once since I’d been gone. I would have been worried that something had happened to him if he hadn’t answered my texts.

Each reply was the same. He was busy and couldn’t answer my calls because he didn’t have a free second to talk to me. I was confused as hell. He was free as a bird right now. Emmie didn’t have a tour scheduled for at least a few months, and then it was only for two weeks. He didn’t have anything music related to deal with, and I knew that he had nothing other than friends and working out to keep him occupied.

When I had called Dallas to ask if she would go over and check on him she had sent Linc. But when Linc had stopped by after work, Shane hadn’t been home. Or he at least hadn’t answered the door, and Linc said he had knocked for at least ten minutes.

I had even called Emmie, wondering if she had heard from him. She hadn’t talked to him in three days, which wasn’t like Shane at all. Those two couldn’t go more than a day without some kind of communication. Emmie had then called Layla, and Layla said that Lucy hadn’t talked to him since the first evening I had left. Their text conversation had suddenly ended, but Lucy hadn’t thought anything of it at the time.

I could only come up with one conclusion.

Shane was tired of me and blowing me off.

The longer I thought about it, the more plausible that conclusion felt. Shane was just burnt out on me, had gotten his fill, and now I was getting the brush off. My entire body felt like it was being stabbed with a million little pinpricks at the thought. My heart was cracking with every passing minute, and I was having to fight back tears as I boarded my northbound plane the next morning.

My first thought was to go home and hide under the covers. But the more pain I felt over my breaking heart, the angrier I became. So I gave the taxi driver Shane’s address instead of my own. It was late evening and I was dog tired after two sleepless nights and a stress-filled plane ride from Miami. So when the doorman offered me a smile and a “good-evening Miss Jones,” I didn’t even look twice at him.

I was too mad, too hurt, and still rehearsing what I planned on saying to the fucking rocker that thought I was just going to go away quietly.

When the elevator opened onto Shane’s floor, I got off and used the key he had given me months ago. The lights were on in the living room so I knew he was home. I went straight to his room, expecting him to be in the shower. This time of the evening he was probably just getting home from the gym for the second or even third time.

But he wasn’t in there.

“Shane!” I yelled his name, knowing that he had to be somewhere in the freaking apartment.

The noise from the guest room made me turn in that direction, and I threw the door open without bothering to knock. The light was on and the bed was a mess. Unless Emmie or one of the others were in town, this room was closed up, the bed always made, and the lights off.

A muttered curse caught my attention and I stiffened. It hadn’t been Shane’s voice, but a very feminine one. Stomping through the room, I pushed the bathroom door open to find a nearly naked girl standing in front of the shower.

I got a glimpse of long dark brown hair, big eyes, and a gaping mouth before I turned and ran.

Fucking rocker!

Tears spilled from my eyes, and I didn’t even know the real reason for them. I didn’t know if it was because I was so mad or because I was so destroyed. Stupid, stupid, stupid rock stars!

I tossed my key on the table by the door as I grabbed my overnight bag and slammed the door behind me. How dare he do this to me! How dare he claim to love me one night, then replace me the next! But I should have known better, should have listened to my gut when it had screamed at me to keep Shane Stevenson at a distance all those months ago.

As the elevator came to a stop in the lobby, I scrubbed my hand over my face to get rid of my tears, but more fell. As the doors opened, I moved to get off only to find my way blocked by the man trying to get on…

“Hey, baby…”

I couldn’t stop myself. Didn’t even have the sense of mind to even try to withstand the urge as I lifted my hand and smacked him across his handsome face.

“Bastard!” I screamed at him. “You didn’t have the guts to tell me you replaced me. Couldn’t have taken two minutes out of your busy life to let me know that you’ve moved some slut into your apartment. I should have known better…”

Strong arms wrapped around me, trapping my arms against my sides. Shane’s face was a mask of rage as he glared down at me. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he exploded.

“You wouldn’t even answer the phone while I was gone. I should have known something was up then.”

“I didn’t answer the phone because I was busy!” he yelled in my face, his eyes wild as they searched mine. “I had family problems to deal with, dammit.”

“I spoke to Emmie yesterday, Shane. There hasn’t been anything wrong with anyone in your family.” I tried to pull free from him, determined to leave and never look back. I had been such an idiot to think that things could work with this man.

“Fuck this!” He pushed me back into the elevator and punched the button for his floor. “I can’t talk to you in the lobby with you screaming at me, Harper.”

I struggled to get free. There was no way I wanted to go back into his apartment and face his new fuck buddy. I fought against his hold, my hair smacking him across the face repeatedly as the elevator rose. “Harper, stop it. You’re going to hurt yourself, baby.”

“Let go of me!” I cried, tears of frustration and humiliation now pouring down my face. “I hate you!”

Even through my struggle, I felt him tense at my words. As soon as the elevator opened on his floor, he tossed me over his shoulder and lifted my overnight bag. He stomped down the corridor and pounded on the door to his apartment when he couldn’t pull his key from his jeans pocket without dropping me.